Every Eagle Can Fly
by Alastair Light
Summary: A collection of stories of Assassin's Oc's. Spans from modern day to the Crusades. These character are also seen in the full length fanfiction The Creed.


Like Father… Like Son

By Alastair Light

An Assassin's Creed Fanfiction

**-Year: 2046**

**-Location: Unknown Mountain Range**

**-Assassin: Malik Auditore **

**-Mission: Unknown**

_Blood, blood on his lips. Malik turned away from the men before him, Templars every one of them, the cold crept into his thick cloak, that was loaded down in both weapons and old armor. Being in Templar territory he knew that he would more than likely come into contact with such radical men. But he never thought he would encounter them with such numbers, nor did he think that he would find them attacking him with such zeal. He shut his blue eyes and gave a great groan as he heaved himself up once more. Again his enemies took up their primitive weapons; blades, axes, pikes. Malik rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid them of the soreness that was creeping up into his muscles. Off in the distance a flag could be heard in its helpless life against the wind. Right now, Malik felt that way, as he faced down so many of the Templars. They stood in front of him in rows, their red armor a beacon against the snowy ground. Malik looked out into their ranks, hearing their breathing; seeing the white plumes of breath that came effortlessly through their open mouths. Even his own cloud came from his lips. As he stared he let his hands open slowly to the side, his eyes slanting under his hood. It only took a second, but a Templar broke from his ranks to rush at Malik, who flexed his arms having his hidden blades come from their sheaths. His enemy raised the axe above his head, ready to take the Assassin down. But Malik, prepared for the fight let his body fall back into the rhythm his Uncle had taught him o-so-well. His arm arching over his head in a graceful pattern, as his left arm curved around his side to find its place in the poor man's abdomen. While his right hand sliced his nose clean off of his face, in a twist of his body Malik landed another strike on a different man, who was also foolish enough to charge him while on the attack. As this one fell he vaulted over the body, his legs coming down in a sweeping kick that took two more men out._

_Now they all rushed at him at once. _

_Malik took in another deep breath as he continued his onslaught. He had already taken so many men down, but they seemed like cockroaches, unable to be killed by stepping on them with a heavy boot. How may more could he take out before one of them landed a fatal blow to his body? In a fluent motion Malik ducked under a clumsy axe, then he brought his blade back up into the man's jugular. As the blood sprayed onto his face he could feel its warmth fade almost instantly as the cold took over. Malik reminisced as he took his body into a deadly dance of slashing and hacking at his enemies. He was not his Father, although he had followed him here; well he had followed something here, Malik wasn't sure if it had been his Father, but it had looked like him. Another arch another kick, another enemy fell before the aging Assassin man. As Malik saw the bloodied man tumble down he thought briefly that maybe he could do this, that he could defeat them and could find why that man-spirit, lead him all the way here. But as the body fell from sight Malik saw six more men take that ones place, hopelessness clawed its way into his heart. How could he do this? He was not Ezio Auditore… he was the man's son. Malik stopped his onslaught to back up a little as the men approached. He had taken many of them out and now he almost looked like one of them, their blood bright splatters on his cloak that set him apart from the white snow. The army raised their blades to Malik's throat and he dropped his arms in surrender. After a brief time of standing, the sea of people began to part like the Red Sea for Moses. A single man stood poised in front of Malik. He was tall, and wearing an old armor, carrying a blade like all the others. He placed his arms behind his back and tilted his head to the left side, his brown hair falling across his face, his black eyes burning into Malik's blue. _

"_Isn't your armor a little outdated Templar?" Malik scoffed, his eyes rolling then returning their gaze to stare into his enemies soulless pits. _

"_Isn't yours?" He countered._

"_Brava." Malik growled. "Mind telling me what you and your cazzo lacch__è are doing here at an Assassini di base?" The man did not recoil at the venom in Malik's voice; just looked a little suprised, his eyebrows raising._

"_We where just passing through actually, and saw a lone Assassin coming, we took the oppertunity to... gain some leverage with our.. how do you say? Boss's." The Templar had the sad fact of truth in his voice. Malik hung his head ever so slightly at the comment. This chance encounter with this army of Templars was just that: a chance encounter. Although every part of him _screamed_ that this was destined, and that it had happened in his family once before. That he was here because he needed to be, that he needed to find something. But he did not know what he was even looking for. _

"_Then let me go, I was just passing through to, this is not the olden times, we are very much so in modern days." Malik looked up exausted towards the man. _

"_I would have let you go if you had not taken out half of my men. But now I see you are truely a fine specimen of a Assassin, so I must have you taken to my leaders." The man turned away from a dismayed Malik, his hand raised for a breif moment. "Take him." _

_Malik jerked as a man advanced on him, a sharp blow was given to his temple and Malik fell hard onto his knee's his vision bluring, he tried to follow the fading Templar. "Cazzo.. I'm sorry Father.. I'm sorry Uncle.." Squinting his eyes shut he let his body fall hard onto the plush snow. Letting the cold seep into his bones and the wetness coat his body. Ah, he was getting to old for this, he should have settled down like his Uncle did, should have retired like his cousin. But his cousin had been almost fatally wounded as he tried to save them from a group of Abstergo agents back in '35 he was scarred all across his chest, and even on his neck a little. He felt hands grab his body and begun to drag him. Sweet darkness took over his sight and feelings. Only the rement of the chill of the snow echoed in his mind._

_Malik awoke slowly, realizing that he was chained, his arms where above his head, his cloak had been taken from him and it was dreadfully cold. Goosebumps spread across his arms and to his chest. The man's blue eyes took in the area around him first before he assessed his body. The dugeon they had placed him in was simple stone, old chains rattled as unfelt breezes made their way across the grey area. Above him was a single window, a eagles nest sat dangerously close to the edge. Yet it seemed perfectly at ease with where it was, and as Malik watched a while longer, fasinated about how it echoed the life of an Assassin, he saw its inhabitent perch itself in his home. The eagle spotted Malik and tilted its head. It as if it was saying _"Why are you chained brother?"_ Malik could only sigh and turned to face the door that lead to the outside, to a freedom that he could only wonder if he would see again. He hung his head in defeat, some Assassin he turned out to be. Closing his eyes he took in slow breaths, feeling the cold air come into is body awakening some primal part of him. Being in this place brought his body alive, tingling with familiarity and a sense of unspeakable power. Like spirits of the past hummed alive and ready to assist him when he needed it most. _

_But were where those powers now as he was bent chained against the wall? He opened his eyes again, only to stare at he knee's still graced with the warm leather and wool pants that had been given to him by his Aunt before he departed from Rome, and what was left of his family. He still had his boots as well, the heavy snow boots he had bought in a local sports store. They had served him well on getting him to the place he needed to go, and now that he was here he was caught in such a ridiculous trap. Another chill came over him and he weakly put the soles of his feet onto the ground and straightened himself up in a standing position. It was time to take stalk of his body. First, he rolled his shoulders, hearing some cracks and pops as they began to rid themselves of soreness. He rotated his wrists next, they where absent of his well worn hidden blades, and the dissapeance of the ever constant weight felt odd to him. Thirdly he moved his ankles one after the another. They worked as well, sore but otherwise the bone was still in great condition; from what he could tell. He wasnt a doctor though. Malik looked back up to that loose wooden door, his body was alright besides the scrapes and bruises that he had litered across his chest. __He glared at the door, as if his stare would let the rotting wood burst into flames. _

"_Merda." He muttered to himself, his thoughts had fleetingly gone on to how to escape, but they had been abruptly destroyed because the key to his bonds where no where to to found. Malik scanned the room once more, but it was all dull grey, with snow coming in through the window__, it was a perfect tomb for a Assassin. He grumbled and experamently pulled at his bonds. Then turned his head to gaze at them; they where iron obviously, but their make was so very old, probably something along the lines of the shakles used during the Crusades. _

_The Crusades? Hadent Uncle Altair spoke something about witnessing the Templars go from great noble warriors to corrupt bankers? _

_Malik frowned as he shifted his hands to get a better look at the cuffs. How could Uncle Altair be so old? He couldnt have. Although, Malik did hear his Mother once talking to his Father about Italy in the fifteenth century, like they had been there... _

_He shook his head and grumbled tugging at the bonds again. He scolded himself for thinking such young thoughts, those memories should not be bothering him so much. He was an adult and should take care of only himself. Because thats all he was; himself, he was on his own. _

"_Cazzo obbligazioni! Come divolo faccio a scendere?" He began to pull at the resiliant rusting iron with all his might and straining his arms he pulled down, forward, and side to side. Accomlishing nothing but very bloody wrists. Frustrated tears sprang to his eyes for a breif moment. "Cazzo!" He called again before letting his body collapse. He had to face it, he wasnt going to get out of the chains on his own. Malik leveled his gaze to the door and willed someone to enter, dared the door to open, prayed that someone idiotic enough would come to take him to that old age Templar he saw earlier. For something to happen, he did not want to be sealed in this, tomb, dungon, whatever it was. He glared at the door again. But with a sigh, turned to look back up at the lone window, back to the eagle that still prowled the ledge. The two pretadors looked at each other for a moment, and in a leap of faith the bird flew from the high portal to the ground in front of Malik. It was not a taunting gesture, it was one of kind curiousity for the unknown. The Assassin souched against the cold stone, leaning his head against it while the blood from the freash wounds he had created from his straining trickled down and dripped into his hair, which was askew. _

"_You are a Auditore why do you give up?" The voice startled Malik who jumped up and pulled a little more on the chain in the process, but the pain only numbed the man more. He looked at where the eagle had once stood; there a man in a blue cloak perched himself on his feet, his beard freckled with grey, the shadow of the single window shaded his face; but the voice, although scratched with experiance and age, was clear as day for Malik. He strained against the binds in shock, but the __ghost only began to speak more. "You shouldnt just wait here." Outside a cloud was coming over the sun, the shadow's dissipated over the spirit's face, a familar smirk and scar appeared, bringing Malik's shock into disbelief._

"_I'm going insane." He muttered. "This cant be, my Father didnt live past his fourties." Shaking his head he tried to dispell the enchantment, but when he opened his eyes the man, his Father, remained._

"_You are not insane... I did not live long in that life, but I did when I was still the Mentor for the Assassini." His hand reached up and gingerly pulled down the gleaming blue hood where those fatherly brown eyes watched Malik every so carefully. The smile strained at wrinkles that Malik never thought he would see on his Father's face. His hair was streaked with grey and he looked so old, it was a blessing to Malik, who had always wondered what his Father would have looked like if he had lived. "My boy, you have grown, you look exactly like me." A low chuckle came from Ezio's lips as he seemed to correct himself. "But your eyes hold the wisdom of your Mother." _

_Malik let his head fall back, a gust of wind came from outside and snow came__ inward falling delicatly onto his skin, chilling his face. "I- Did you lead me here... Father?" The living Assassin closed his eyes, not wanting to see his Father's face, for fear this truely was all just a dilusion, and that he would dissapear, leaving Malik on his own once more. _

"_No, I did not. You came here of your own accord, in search of something." Ezio tilted his head looking over his son. "Have you found it?"_

_Malik squeezed his eyes shut even furthur, the crow feet he had developing appeared in protest of his action. His lips turned down into a grimace, and his body cletched at the question. "No, I dont even know what I am suppose to look for."_

_There was no laugh as Malik expected just a low comment. "You truely are my son. Good luck Malik my boy."_

_Malik opened his eyes and quickly looked toward his Father, but there was only a eagle with a mocking glint in its eyes. It took to the air as Malik strained against the chains, the rattling was almost deafening as he called out to the eagle. "What do you want me to do? Father! Tell me! I have nothing to live for! Nothing! I am a mistake I have always been!" _

_After a moment of silence, the eagle's wing beats where heard fading off into the distance, Malik let his body slouch, defeated, unsure what to do, knowing that he probalby would die in the hole he had dug for himself. Suddenly after what seemed like hours, there was the sound of beating wings and the eagle returned: with a key in its talon's grasps, it dropped the key in front of Malik, just within reach. As it flew off there was a soft voice that could be heard. "You where never a mistake, you are exactly who you are suppose to be. As for a purpose, that is for you to find. Assassini." Malik watched as a feather came floating down a after the key. _

Assassin where eagles.

_Malik stared at the key for a moment, but after that he began to reach for it, straining his right leg towards the rusting silver key. The tip of his toe finally caught on the edge of the ring, flipping his boot up ever so slightly the ring fell onto the more solid half of his shoe. Gripping relef echoed deep withing Malik's chest, he could get out of here after all. __Lifting his foot until he could not bring it any closer he bent his knee to bring the leg to a snug position against his chest, keeping his foot straight he worked the key until it was at the edge of his foot, Malik frowned at it, knowing that he had only one shot at this, otherwise he was going to be stuck here until someone found him again. And his Father would not bail him out this time around. Malik tilted his head, taking deep breaths to calm himself before attempting this escape plan. His brown hair fell in the way of his eyes. Small grey strands where mixed in with his chocolate brown, his tan skin was scared by many blades and close calls. On his left pectoral he had a Assassin brand, given to him by a Abstergo agent with a very bad sense of humor. That memory though was better left off for another time. He took in a deep breath, the cold air reminded him that he was probalby running out of time before hypothermia kicked in. It was time; Malik flicked his foot up into the air and the key went soaring, rotating and jingling as the chilled air teased at the metal, it flew, suspended for a moment before plummeting back down to Earth once more. Malik reached out, in a attempt to catch it in his ruined hands. But the blood was to slippery and the key fell from his grasp, and plunked right on top of his head. _

"_..ow.." Malik muttered as he reached painfully down to grasp the handle of the key. Now came another tricky part, trying to feel for the key hole. The cold was getting worse for him and even as he struck the key uselessly against the bindings he could hear his teeth begining to chatter. The sound of the clicking grew on his nerves, but there was nothing he could do. Then after ten minutes of fruitless searching for the key hole Malik found it, and sliding the key in he gave it a twist, and his left hand fell free. Malik then made quick work of the other hand and collapsed, his arms throbbing from how long he had remianed up right. Lifting his wrists he took a quick assesment of the wounds he had given himself. They where bad, and where likely to scar. He sighed; and closed his eyes, he was so very tired._

_Footsteps interuppted Malik's rest, and the Assassin quickly shook off the lathargy and moved to the corner of the door, as silently as possible. It opened, creaking loudly as it did so; and two Templar guards walked in, Malik jumped them, grabbing a knife that one of them had sheathed behind his back, seized the neck of the other one driving the weapon into the throat, then with a violent yank, pulled it out and threw it into the others forehead. Both fell to the ground with a dull thud._

_Malik shivered as he retrieved the blade from the mans skull. Goosebumps had broken out on his skin and he did not know where they had hidden his equipment. But he sighed and began to move up, and out of the cell, in search of it. Once he stepped outside he was blasted with more cold, and tilting his head to either side listening to the silence, straining his ears for any slight sound, or mentioning of movement. When no sound came he hunched his shoulders and ran to the nearest building. In it was the weapons vault, unlocked, and Malik smiled at this: maybe his luck was looking up, just a little. Behind him he quietly shut the door and began to rummage through the items, in search of anything useful or his own gear. It took some time, and he stoped frequently in fear that he would be caught or that someone would come in and he would have to kill them. Although he was used to such bloodshed he wanted to avoid it just a little, he was growing so tired of fighting. He had gotten no rest for a long time; he had traveled far to long without a break. _

_In his absentminded searching Malik's hands stroked something soft and furry. He was paying attention now. Gazing down he saw the light blue of his cloak like coat. The fur rimmed around the outside and the Assassin insignia was displayed proudly on its chest. The man grinned taking it and putting it on, burrowing his face into the soft fabric. When he had regained his warmth Malik opened his eyes again to see that under his coat had been his two hidden blades. He sighed in releif, the two weapons had been in his family for a long time. Loosing them would be like loosing a peice of himself, and whatever he had left of his Mother and Father. Grabbing them he latched them on, first by slipping it over his wrists, then strapping them down, and exparamentally flexing his arm muscle, and having them spring to life by his touch. He closed his eyes, and exhaled, the plume of white curled around his nose as he felt the familiarity of them fill his body with unexpected warmth. _

_Now that he had his weapons he had two desisons. One, run, run away as fast as he could and never come back to this place.__ Or two; kill that Templar son of a bitch that dare defile this place with his presense. Malik gazed up towards the open door, the snow slowly fell beyond the simple portal. In that world, the Assassin had to decide to defend his honor or not: to defend the honor of his Order, and his family. _

_ What kind of choice was that? It was completely onesided. _

_ Straightening up Malik rolled his shoulders and grinned. "Father, you are going to be so proud of your boy." _

_ He was going to kill this radical Templar and save this place. It was holy for the Assassins, and Malik was going to protect it one way or another..._

To be continued..?


End file.
